


Insufferable Brat

by charis2770



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: BDSM, Belts, Feilong is horrible, M/M, Slash, Things get very interesting, Whipping, Yaoi, Yoh has had enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 04:45:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charis2770/pseuds/charis2770
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Finger one-off written in response to a request by one of my Tumblr followers on askasamifeiandaki.tumblr.com. This story is NOT part of any of the other Finder series I write and/or collaborate on, and stands alone. Asami and Feilong are not and never have been lovers, but have made peace and are, at last, good friends. This takes place very shortly after the Naked Truth story arc. I'm also posting it now because Feilong's birthday is mentioned in the story, and he's a February baby like me!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insufferable Brat

“Incompetents,” mutters Feilong, going over quarterly profit and loss reports. “Morons.” He pinches the bridge of his nose where the headache he’s had for the last two days is gleefully doing its best to lobotomize him. “Fools…and IDIOT! What are you DOING?” He lifts his head to glare venomously at the man in the nondescript black suit who has just entered the room and started hammering something into the wall.

Yoh turns to face Feilong. His face is as impassive as always, which is annoying, because when Liu Feilong raises his voice, people COWER, damn it!

“I’m hanging the photographs Takaba sent for your birthday, Sama, as you asked me to.”

“Oh and I suppose you just HAD to hang them there?” snarls Feilong.

“….Yes, Sama. This is where you told me to hang them. Today.”

“Well now I’m telling you not to,” hisses Feilong furiously.

“Is something wrong, Sama?” asks Yoh solicitously.

“I’m surrounded by idiots, that’s what’s wrong. I’m TRYING to go over the quarterly reports if I can get some fucking peace and quiet.”

“Can I help?”

“Can you help? You mean can you look at them so you can report what’s in them to Asami?”

“I work for you, Feilong-Sama,” says Yoh quietly, for about the fiftieth time since Feilong had grudgingly allowed him to return to his employ. He’s been giving the assassin menial work in hopes that Yoh will give up and run back to Asami with his tail tucked between his legs. As if Feilong has any interest in what’s between Yoh’s legs! “And Asami is your friend.”

“Oh shut up. I don’t want to look at you right now. Go…get me some lunch,” he snaps. Yoh leaves the office silently and Feilong heaves a sigh of relief at the peace and quiet. He manages to get a few things done before, half an hour later, the door opens and Yoh returns, preceded by a little cart covered with a white cloth and several covered dishes. Feilong briefly considers throwing his extremely sharp letter opener at Yoh’s head, but the bastard would probably just catch it anyway, and whatever’s on the cart smells good and he hasn’t eaten in hours. Yoh bows his head and starts uncovering dishes.

“Jellyfish salad, Shrimp dumpling soup, and sautéed vegetables over rice, Feilong-sama,” he says softly, setting a plate in front of his employer and serving out portions of the food. This puts him uncomfortably close. Feilong can feel the warmth of his body heat through his clothing and bites his lip in fury that his body likes the feeling. It likes the way Yoh smells too. Damn it!

“Back off,” he snaps. “I’m capable of serving myself!”

Yoh bows silently and goes to guard the door. He won’t allow Feilong’s luncheon to be disturbed for anything less than a dire emergency. Feilong glares resentfully at the door and takes a bite of his food.

His eyebrows go up because the quality of the fare is head and shoulders above what he’s usually brought for his midday meal. Feilong employs a personal chef, but only in the evenings. One of the maids provides breakfast and lunch, or he sends a lackey to a nearby restaurant. This is the best takeout he’s ever had.

“Yoh!” he shouts imperiously. The door opens and the traitor sticks his head in.

“Yes Sama?”

“Where did you get this food?”

“Does it please you, Sama?”

“It’s excellent. I want the rest of the staff to be given the name of the restaurant.”

Yoh smiles. Feilong is definitely not paying attention to the way it lights up his face, or to the fact that he has a dimple in his left cheek that can only be seen when he smiles.

“I made it, Feilong-Sama. I’m very glad it pleases you.”

“Hmph,” growls Feilong, embarrassed, and finding the feeling intolerable, “It’s just food. Maybe I’ll send you to work in the kitchens, let you take the maid’s place. Go away Yoh, I’m busy.”

He buries his face back in the spreadsheet, knowing his face is flushed. He’s furious. The door closes and he sighs, but the sigh turns into a gasp of shock when Yoh slams his hands down on the desk under his nose.

“Would it kill you,” he says through gritted teeth, though he keeps his voice even, “to say ‘Thank you’ every once in a while when someone does something nice for you just because they feel like it?”

“I thank everyone who does nice things for me that hasn’t BETRAYED me,” hisses Feilong. “And I’m going to kill YOU if you don’t get your hands off my desk this instant!”

Yoh complies, but only to step around the desk so that he’s standing over Feilong’s chair, staring down at him. Which is intolerable. Nobody LOOMS over the head of Baishe! Feilong stands up and glares into Yoh’s flashing eyes.

“You had your chance to kill me,” whispers Yoh, stepping closer. Feilong takes a step back, and mostly convinces himself it’s only so that he can kick the bastard in the face if he feels like it. “And if you were going to do it, you’d have done it then. I did what I did to keep EVERYone safe. It was literally the ONLY way all of you could have walked away alive, and you know it. Would you have preferred to have watched Takaba bleed out on the deck of your ship…YOUR ship, Feilong…because your enemies weren’t distracted by their search for the deed and had time to focus on killing him? I promise you it is true that even if Akihito hadn’t lost his life, either you or Asami would have.”

“I wanted to kill him,” shouts Feilong. “You robbed me of my vengeance!

 

“No,” says Yoh calmly, stepping closer again. “You didn’t want to kill him. You wanted to hurt him. You succeeded and then realized you didn’t like it. He never hurt you, Sama. The man who impregnated your mother fired the bullet that gave you that scar and in your heart you KNOW it. Asami killed him to save your life. If he could have helped keep you out of prison, he would have, but you wouldn’t speak up to help yourself. He sent me to help you, to watch over you, not to spy on you. THINK, Feilong! If I was spying for him, why didn’t he find ways to ruin business deals, sabotage and undermine your efforts? You KNOW he would have if he really wanted to ruin you, and you know he would NOT have failed! You’ve forgiven him. All the insulting things you say about him are but your attempts to make yourself feel less of a fool. You care for Takaba and you can accept Asami’s friendship now without bitterness. Why can you not accept mine?”

Feilong is speechless for several seconds, which is absolutely absurd. He always knows what to say! That Yoh is entirely correct is beside the point. If he’d truly been loyal, he would have confessed that Asami has sent him to help Baishe…no, to help Feilong…years ago. He resolutely ignores the voice in his head that tells him it was only Takaba’s influence that made him able to see the truth and to forgive, and that if Yoh had come to him sooner, he would have simply killed him and mailed Asami the body. He doesn’t know what to say to Yoh, who is too close and smells too good and is staring at him with those fathomless dark eyes that seem to devour him, so he does the only thing he can do.

He whirls and executes a flawless roundhouse kick, hard enough to break Yoh’s nose. Except Yoh steps back and ducks quick as a cat and the kick doesn’t land. Snarling, Feilong throws a punch at his stupid face and…Yoh blocks it, calmly.

“Stop this, Sama,” he says softly. “I am not your enemy.”

“SHUT UP!” screams Feilong, and punches him again. This blow lands, and he ignores the uncomfortable feeling that Yoh LETS it. The insufferable creature grabs his wrist in a viselike grip before he can pull his arm back. Feilong yanks and twists but cannot pull free. Partly this is because he’s mesmerized by the sight of Yoh’s tongue sweeping the bright scarlet blood off his lips. This is why he’s off balance when Yoh yanks on his arm and he stumbles, falling against the other man’s body. He’s still trying to get his feet under him when Yoh propels them violently backwards and slams him against the wall. That this knocks Feilong’s breath from his lungs is the only reason he doesn’t pull a knife with his free hand and gut the man where he stands. This is what he’s still telling himself when Yoh leans his body against Feilong’s and presses his mouth gently to Feilong’s lips.

Yoh’s lips are soft and warm, and when Feilong gasps in shock, his tongue sweeps into Feilong’s mouth and licks at him hungrily. He makes a muffled noise of basest need and the sound seems to reach inside Feilong’s body and tug an answering sound from him. He melts against Yoh’s body. Yoh’s firm, muscular  body. Yoh’s _traitorous_ body! He comes to his senses and bites the bastard’s bottom lip hard. Yoh jerks his head back and glares at Feilong. His expression is terrifying and makes Feilong’s cock throb in his pants.

“You insufferable little brat,” he snarls softly.

Feilong shudders.

“You’re driving me mad,” continues Yoh, pressing his forearm against Feilong’s throat to keep him in place. Feilong chokes back a moan. “You’re like a spoiled little boy who wasn’t spanked enough as a child.”

Oh gods. This time Feilong can’t hold back a tiny noise, and his hips roll against Yoh’s quite without him realizing it. He can’t know, can he? Feilong has always been careful. The fantasies are shameful, and he’s never revealed them. He erases his internet history every day and clears his computer’s cache because how humiliating, how horrifying, how unconscionable it would be for anyone to discover that Baishe’s head fantasizes about being treated like a naughty little boy. And about treating someone else like one also. Either works for him. Yoh stares at him for a few thick beats of Feilong’s heart. As his cock throbs like a toothache between his legs, Feilong suddenly realizes that it doesn’t fill him with terror that Yoh might know, might realize…might _understand._ Yoh, who withstood torture. Who has saved his life countless times and followed his every order without complaint, no matter how menial or demeaning, and whose shipboard confession has haunted Feilong’s dreams for weeks and whose body feels perfect crowding against him. Whose bruising hold on his wrist feels exactly right.

“Oh really?” says Yoh with interest, dark eyes piercing Feilong to the wall.

“Yes, _really_. Imbecile,” hisses Feilong.

Yoh leans in and brushes his lips softly over Feilong’s, then casually bites him back, hard. Feilong’s eyes roll back in his skull and this time the sound he makes is quite distinctly a whimper.

“You have ten seconds to say no,” breathes Yoh in his ear, making him shudder.

“Or…or what?” gasps Feilong.

“Or I am going to bend you over your desk.”

“Ah..and?”

“And pull down your pants.” Yoh’s tongue laps gently at the blood on Feilong’s lips. Oh gods. Will he laugh if Feilong comes in his pants like an unschooled boy? Right fucking now?

“And?”

“And pull off my belt…”

“Yoh,” he pants. Shit. It sounds like a plea.

“And whip your bare ass raw with it before I fuck you blind.”

Feilong’s eyes flick towards the door.

“It’s locked,” whispers Yoh. Then his eyes study Feilong’s face carefully, and Feilong hates that he’s pretty sure Yoh can see EVERYTHING written there. All his loneliness and fear. His issues. His need. Yoh’s eyes soften and he kisses Feilong again with great tenderness. “Don’t move, Feilong. If you step away from this wall, I’ll punish you for it.”

His words paralyze Feilong, and contrary to all reason, he stands still as a stone while Yoh steps to his desk and picks up the phone, pressing a button.

“Some information of a confidential nature has come to Feilong-Sama’s attention. It requires immediate action. Please see that we’re not disturbed for any reason,” he says coolly, and hangs up. He turns and stares at Feilong.

“Ten seconds,” he says softly.

Feilong stares back, lips parted, trying to find the word “No,” somewhere in the swirling maelstrom of his brain and failing utterly. Part of him is shrieking that this is a horrible mistake, that he will be betrayed again, that this cannot happen. Oh, but he wants. Wants to believe in the love Yoh professes, to have his good right hand back, to have this man see the dark needs in Feilong’s soul and not turn away from them.

“Five seconds, Feilong.”

Feilong clenches his fists at his sides and shudders, his head awash with terror and desire. Yoh’s lips move silently as he counts down the remaining seconds. The moment he hits one, he doesn’t even pause. He grabs Feilong by the hair so fast Feilong’s not aware he’s moving until his head is yanked sideways and Yoh slings him around by it. He staggers and falls heavily against the desk. The edge hits him in the stomach as he collapses over it and the breath is knocked out of him again. Yoh pins his head to the surface of the desk by slamming his hand down on the surface of the polished antique cherry without opening his fist, using Feilong’s own hair to hold him motionless, bent over, and helpless.

“Now, the only way you’re getting away is if you’re willing to snatch yourself more than half bald…and I KNOW how you feel about your hair.” Yoh’s voice is still infuriatingly calm, whereas Feilong is panting and trembling.

“L-let go of me,” he stammers breathlessly.

“You don’t want me to let go of you. You had plenty of time to stop this if you’d wanted to. You want this so bad you’re trembling. What is it you’re afraid of, Feilong? I know you don’t fear pain. That I won’t follow through…or that I will? Do you fear getting what you want? Because I’m going to give it to you. If I’d known sooner….oh, my love, you have no idea how often I have thought of this. Of punishing your rudeness and spite. Of course, it didn’t end the way I intend this to, but I never truly dreamed…Well. Enough. Don’t be afraid, Feilong,” says Yoh, his voice kind and gentle. Feilong doesn’t stop trembling, because he IS terrified. Yoh hasn’t quite got it right though. He’s terrified for anyone to see him this naked, this vulnerable. So see the sickness of his needs and know him for the base pervert that he is. He fears the ridicule that he believes to be inevitable. Yoh will see how truly frantic Feilong’s body has become, and he may not say so now, but he’ll be appalled on some level, and the distaste will out. Yoh seems determined, and Feilong indeed is unwilling to sacrifice his hair…especially over something he craves this much. He closes his eyes against the stinging in them, the despair, and decides that since he’s been trying to drive Yoh away for weeks anyway, he may as well at least have a taste of this before he is finally, inevitably, abandoned.

Yoh reaches under his hips and unfastens his silk drawstring pants, tugging them gently until they drop with a whisper to puddle at Feilong’s ankles. His underwear follows and he tenses. Yoh’s hand on the curve of his ass makes the breath he’s been holding explode out in a gasp when gentle fingers trace the crease between his cheeks and drift farther down, to cup his balls.

“You’ve been a very, VERY bad boy, Feilong,” says Yoh softly. Feilong tries to nod a little in acknowledgement of this, but Yoh holds him fast by the hair and he can’t move.  He hears the spine-tingling slither of leather, of Yoh pulling his belt through his beltloops. There is a pause, but Feilong’s head is turned away from Yoh, and he can’t see. Can’t tell what’s happening. It could be anything Yoh is readying, not his belt, but a knife or a gun or….

Hot pain explodes across the cheeks of Feilong’s ass. Oh dear merciful gods, Yoh is holding nothing back. Feilong knows well how strong his bodyguard is, and the instant throbbing burn at his bare cheeks is testament to it. He goes very still and silent, unable to move or think or even breathe, until the next stroke comes and he shudders, the scorching heat of it going straight to his cock.

“Haa,” he gasps, groaning a little.

“Does it hurt?” asks Yoh kindly.

“Yes,” hisses Feilong through gritted teeth.

“Good,” says Yoh cheerfully, and whips him harder. Feilong writhes and can’t contain a muffled sound that is equal parts pain and desire. Oh…oh but it HURTS so much more than he’d imagined, and it’s perfect. Yoh’s belt lashes across his ass and the backs of his thighs with a vengeance, and he feels a tremor of remorse at the way he’s been treating this man, who now holds him helpless and clearly has a grudge to settle. Again and again the leather brands its kiss into his flesh. Feilong writhes and pants and moans when the pain is too much for him to contain. It’s horrible. It’s exquisite. He’s so hard he’s going to explode if ANYthing touches his cock for even a moment.

There are silent tears on Feilong’s cheeks when Yoh’s belt clatters to the floor. The hand pinning his hair to the desk lets go, but Feilong couldn’t move if his life depended on it now. He lets out a startled and undignified squawk when he feels something wet on his throbbing backside. It is Yoh’s tongue. He’s tracing the welts he’s left with it, placing soft kisses on the rawest spots where the belt has crisscrossed time and again and very nearly brought Feilong’s blood to the surface. It stings, but it is heaven.

“Yoh,” he whispers in a tiny, raw voice. It sounds like a plea, but Feilong has no idea what he’s asking for.

Cool hands stroke his abused posterior, and fingers spread his cheeks. He feels something wet…has Yoh been CARRYING lube in his pocket In hopes of something like this?...but then realizes that it is petroleum jelly from the small tube Yoh always has in one of his pockets. A finger prods gently and then sinks inside, past the clenching ring of muscle that protects Feilong’s inner sanctum.

“Look at you,” whispers Yoh, “you want this so badly you’re _dripping.”_

And it’s true, Feilong realizes as he raises up on his elbows and looks down. His cock is weeping with his need. He flushes dark red and tries to stand, to turn and push Yoh away, to rush from the room and never look into those dark eyes again to see the ridicule in them. But Yoh’s hand presses on his back and he is too shaken from the whipping to fight it.

“Shh,” says Yoh softly, and Feilong whimpers when he feels the blunt head of Yoh’s cock nestle against his quivering hole.

“Y-yoh,” chokes Feilong, still crying a little and hating how weak it makes him.

“Filthy boy,” purrs Yoh soothingly, gently pressing his hips forward. “Insufferable brat. I love you so damn much, Sama. Let me…let me love you. I beg you. Let me give you what you need, now and every day after today. You are so fucking beautiful. I wish you could see yourself right now, as I see you. Gorgeous. You’re gorgeous, and your ass is in so much trouble, because I’ll do this again. Every time you’re horrible and you need it, every night if you want me to, or if you make me. Such a bad little boy inside you, Feilong. I love all of you. Can you hear me? Say yes.”

Feilong’s hot tears scald his cheeks as the hard casing that surrounds his heart shatters under Yoh’s gentle assault. He lifts his hips, seeking this violation, pressing back against Yoh’s body.

“Yes,” he whispers.

The next moment he cries out in pain as Yoh firmly thrusts his cock balls-deep into Feilong’s asshole, prying him open roughly, just exactly as he wants it. He can barely breathe through the burn of the invasion, but Yoh gives him no quarter, fucking him open roughly until Feilong’s body slowly softens and accepts his drilling cock. Feilong presses his fist to his mouth and bites his knuckles against his animal cries and shouts of pain and passion, for the room is not perfectly soundproofed, but it doesn’t matter that he has to hold his sounds back when he’d rather let them out, nothing else matters but this man, this patient and beautiful and deadly man who is staking his ownership of Feilong, body and soul, with every rough stab of his cock, every tender soothing stroke of his hand up and down Feilong’s spine.

Then the broad, mushroom head of Yoh’s cock brushes that one perfect spot inside Feilong’s body that makes sparks explode inside his brain and he can barely contain a howl of ecstasy.

“Mm,” murmurs Yoh, doing it again, “Right there? It’s good right there?”

“Ohh,” whimpers Feilong, pushing back against him as Yoh slows his brutal assault and starts to long-dick Feilong’s aching hole, hitting that perfect spot on every thrust now. “Oh…oh fuck….I’m…Yoh!”

“Can you come for me like this, Sama?” croons his lover softly.

“Guh,” pants Feilong. “Ngh. Ye…yes. Yoh…oh please!”

“Please what, love?” asks Yoh tenderly. “Is this what you want?”

And he slams his cock into Feilong so hard it tears a shriek from Feilong’s throat and then he is coming too hard to care, sobbing and shuddering and coming and laughing and it the most perfect thing he’s ever felt in all his life. Yoh’s hands dig into his hips and he hears his lover’s muffled curse at how tightly Feilong’s hole clamps onto his cock, and Yoh’s thrusts become erratic and then he’s groaning and shaking and emptying himself into Feilong’s body.

They stand frozen there for some space of time that is probably minutes but feels like an eternity, their bodies joined, hearts pounding, breath rasping in their chests, and then Yoh tentatively withdraws and Feilong whimpers at the ache and sting of it as his sore, used asshole closes back up. He thinks he hopes it feels that way for a long time, long enough to sustain him for a little while once Yoh realizes what a deviant he is, and leaves him alone. He stares at the desk, blushing in humiliation, waiting for Yoh to tuck himself away and leave. Yoh does tuck himself away, but then he’s gently cleaning Feilong’s body with tissues from the box on  the desk, and easing his pants up over his throbbing ass. He pulls Feilong to his feet and turns him to face him. Feilong, his face aflame, stares fixedly at the floor until Yoh presses a kiss gently to his mouth and will not allow him to refuse to respond. Somehow, he’s not sure exactly, he finds himself in Yoh’s arms, on the sofa across the room, being…is he being cuddled? Liu Feilong, the leader of the dreaded Baishe tong? Can that be happening?

“Hush,” says Yoh comfortably when he tries weakly to struggle out of the strong arms holding him. “I really don’t think you want me to punish you again just now.”

Feilong goes very still, because there is no ridicule or derision or distaste in Yoh’s voice.

“Yoh?” he asks, hating that he sounds hesitant.

“Yes, Sama?”

“Did you mean it?”

“Which it, Sama?”

“When you said…that you’d do it again?”

“Did you hate it so much?” asks Yoh sadly. “Was it too hard?”

“What? No! No, I…you meant it?”

“Of course I meant it. That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen or done or even thought about. Now I’m never going to stop thinking about it. And every time I see you in your beautiful silk clothes with your body so straight and fine, and that arrogant look on your face while you command someone, while you run your business like some cruel dictator…I am going to know how sore and welted your ass is under those expensive silk trousers and I’m going to love every second of it. I said I loved you, Feilong. Which part of that was it you didn’t understand?”

Feilong stares at Yoh is disbelief for a few seconds, but there is nothing but truth on his lover’s face. His lover. He looks at Yoh from under his eyelashes and tries the word on for size.

He finds that it fits just fine.


End file.
